Thursday, May 11, 2017

My Mom Was A Great Role Model

The quote above makes me think of my mother. What a good role model she was, not only in my growing-up years, but all the years I have been an adult, a wife, a mom, a grandmother. I wrote a story about Mom published in the 2015 Mother's Day book by Chicken Soup for the Soul. It still makes me smile when I think of my mother and her very own 'recipe for life.' Read it below the book cover.

Mom’s Recipe For Life

By Nancy Julien Kopp

I have a lot of Mom’s recipes in a blue tin box where all my
special ones reside--the pumpkin pie she made during my growing up years, the
light and yeasty dinner rolls that were family faves, and the tender date
muffins that her own mother made. Every time I see one of the cards with Mom’s
handwriting on it, I am carried back to the aromas in our small kitchen where
she reigned. Even so, the recipe I treasure most is not on any index card. Nor
did she send it to me in a letter. On the contrary, she lived this recipe all
of her life but I was too blind to see and appreciate it until her final years.

My mother grew up in a small coal mining town in southwest
Iowa. My grandfather once told me that she knew no stranger; she considered
everyone in that community her friend. That attitude continued wherever she
lived for the rest of her life.

As a tween and teen, I cringed every time my mother
addressed strangers in the grocery store or on the city bus. She talked to everyone
and offered a smile. In my naivety, I was embarrassed.

Mom had a cheerful greeting for everyone she encountered and
a question of some sort that triggered an answer and more conversation. She
spoke to the mailman, the grocery store clerks, and the girls who worked in the
neighborhood bakery.

“Hi Lorraine,” she’d say to the woman who owned the bakery.
“What did you think of Jackie Gleason’s show last night?” Lorraine chatted
about the show as she sliced the usual loaf of bread for Mom, then asked what
else she wanted. “Half a dozen of those wonderful crullers,” Mom might say.
Then she’d lean closer to the counter and say something like, “Isn’t life
wonderful?” I’d roll my eyes and accept the free cookie Lorraine gave me even
into my teen years, then hurry out hoping no one would see me with the woman
who talked to everyone.

Decades later, after my father passed on, I drove the hour
and a half to my mother’s house every couple of weeks to spend a day with her
and help with errands. She grieved for Dad for a long time inwardly but her
smile never wavered. “No sense being a Grumpy Gertie,” she’d tell me.

I watched as she spoke to the Walmart greeter before he even
had a chance to open his mouth. “Hi. How
are you doing today? Isn’t it great to see the sun?” She flashed him a million
dollar smile as he helped her get a shopping cart while he chuckled.

I noticed that she smiled at everyone she passed in the
store’s many aisles. Almost all of them responded with a bright beam of their
own. Some spoke, others nodded their
heads at this elderly woman who brought a little light into their day.

What really sold me on Mom’s approach to life was her
experience on the senior bus, a story I’ve repeated to others many times. The
weeks I could not be there, she used this low-cost transportation to the grocery
store. After her first trip, I asked her how it went.

“Ha!’ she said, “I got on that bus and what did I see?
Thirteen little old ladies and one old man and not one word was spoken.”

I wondered how long it would be until the somberness on that
bus would change. On my next visit, Mom mentioned the girls on the bus and
something one of them had told her.

“Oh, are you talking with them now?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “One day I climbed up the steps of
the bus and before I looked for a seat, I gave them a big smile and I said,
‘Isn’t it a wonderful day? I noticed a few shy smiles.”

Mom didn’t give up. She greeted them all each time she got
on the bus and before long, the whole group was laughing and talking to one
another. The bus became more than just transportation.

When we went to the various stores, I observed as she smiled
and chatted with perfect strangers. Some of them looked like the sourest person
you’d ever met but once Mom beamed at them and started a conversation, most
responded favorably. She had a man with deep frown lines laughing over a little
joke she told him as she leaned on her cane. My mother didn’t embarrass me any
longer. I found myself admiring her.

She’s been gone for ten years but I’ve carried on her recipe
for life. I smile at people as I walk by and often begin a conversation in the
checkout line. Silent, solemn people respond with smiles of their own and a bit
of chatter. All it takes is for one person to initiate the smile or a greeting.

Recently, I noticed a woman ahead of me in the checkout
line. Her red raincoat looked cheerful on a wet day, and I told her so. She had
looked quite serious only a moment before, but she smiled and thanked me. “You
know what?” she said, “I really like the color of your raincoat, too.”

It’s such second nature with me now that only the other day
I noticed that everyone I passed in the grocery store smiled at me. Must be a
lot of happy people here, I thought. Then, I stopped walking and bowed my head
in a grateful prayer of thanks for the mother I had been given. It was me who
had done the smiling first and all those people had responded. My mother didn’t
lecture but taught me by example. She’d given me a recipe for life.

About Me

I have been published in 18 Chicken Soup for the Soul books, several other anthologies, newspapers, magazines and ezines. My writing includes award winning fiction for children, creative nonfiction, poetry, travel and personal essays. I was named Prose Writer of the Year in 2013 by the Kansas Authors Club. A former teacher, I continue to teach through the written word.